


beau malheur

by zora (nico_neo)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Break Up, actor Atsumu, singer Sakusa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26662453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nico_neo/pseuds/zora
Summary: Somehow, 505 is where everything started. Room number 505.The same room that, by transcending the limits of a music video, also linked Kiyoomi and Atsumu. Just like Kiyoomi made all those couples link thanks to one hotel room and a song, he found himself trapped in his own lyrics and ended up tied to Atsumu Miya. He played his own song.But the song never was a happy one.[Sakusa Week day 6: celebrity]
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Kudos: 59





	beau malheur

**Author's Note:**

> So... I listened to 505... got an idea... then listened to french songs (j'ai demandé à la lune and beau malheur) and it gave me this mess... I have no idea what it is
> 
> You can listen to the songs listed below while you're reading if you want!
> 
> Enjoy! <3

_I'm going back to 505_

_If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive_

Somehow, 505 is where everything started. Room number 505. It’s the hotel room that was used for the music video. Several couples, all booking the same hotel room at different moments of the year. All kinds of couples. Straight couples, gay couples, lesbian couples. Young couples, old couples, couples with an age difference. One night stands. Different people but the same room. Always the same room. The same room that would link them all without all of them knowing. 

The same room that, by transcending the limits of a music video, also linked Kiyoomi and Atsumu. Just like Kiyoomi made all those couples link thanks to one hotel room and a song, he found himself trapped in his own lyrics and ended up tied to Atsumu Miya. He played his own song.

But the song never was a happy one. 

  
  


_In my imagination you're waiting, lying on your side_

_With your hands between your thighs_

“Atsumu, we didn’t really manage to get your face in the middle shot, we’re going to do it again,” 

The blonde actor nodded and positioned himself once again in the doorway of the room. The female lead with whom he was shooting the scene placed herself in front of him, her hands already cupping his cheeks. Miya smiled at her and wrapped his arms around her waist, ready to dive on her lips at the moment the director would scream “action!”.

“Ready… Action!”

Kiyoomi watched the screen on which the scene was retransmitted with meticulous care. It was the last scene they had to shoot, it needed to be perfect. The song was playing as a background music to help the actors and directors get the feeling of the scene. Kiyoomi didn’t really need it, he knew where he wanted that particular scene to be. At the very end. Closing on a focus shot of the couple’s faces when they were lying on the bed. The man smiling softly yet sadly at the woman under him. Her, not seeing through the man’s mask and pulling him to a kiss. End.

“What do you think?” Motoya asked, next to him.

“We keep it.” he said, and got up from his stool, ready to leave the room. With Miya’s glowing face in the light of the room following him whenever he closed his eyelids to blink.

  
  


_Stop and wait a sec_

_Oh, when you look at me like that, my darling_

_What did you expect?_

“You should sleep.”

Kiyoomi looked up from his notebook - filled with words, sentences and a lot of scribbles and crossing-outs. His glasses had slid a bit down on his nose, but, standing in the doorway of their bedroom, soft light illuminating his features, Atsumu Miya looked ethereal. Even in the simple attire that was his unbuttoned white shirt. Kiyoomi didn’t see any pants on him, so he was probably only in his underwear. The singer felt slightly self conscious. And an horrendous realization that he hasn’t showered since this morning sank down on him. He looked down at his notebook. The page was practically black from crossing outs, but besides a few words… nothing. He threw it back on his desk and sighed.

He felt warm hands resting on his shoulders. They squeezed and thumbs rubbed circles in his tensed muscles. Kiyoomi exhaled, immediately feeling his body untense. He lifted his head backwards, so he could look at Atsumu. He had pulled his glasses up so they were now perfectly framing his face. If Kiyoomi wanted to be a little poetic, he would say that Atsumu looked like a mermaid - a merman in his case - seated on the rocks near the shore and whose scales were shining under the moonlights, drawing pirates and sailors towards them. Enchanting with their beauty.

Kiyoomi was enchanted by Atsumu Miya.

“What are ya thinkin’ about?” the merman-turned-human asked.

“About how I could write songs about you,” Kiyoomi murmured. “Yet, even words won’t be enough.”

“Now, yer bein’ a sap, Omi,” Atsumu chuckled. “I know I’m pretty but come on.”

And pretty he was, indeed.

“What did you expect?” Kiyoomi asked, raising his hands so he could rest them on Atsumu’s own, which were still on his shoulders, massaging his tense muscles. “I’m a singer and I write my own songs. I obviously take my inspiration somewhere.”

Atsumu bent down, their noses were now touching. His hands stayed still on Kiyoomi’s shoulders.

“Now, you’re flattering me,” he said against Kiyoomi’s lips. He kissed them in a featherlight touch. 

Atsumu was the mermaid singing on the rocks, and Kiyoomi was the enchanted sailor. And he dived head first in the cold and salty water to join him, enraptured. 

_I probably still adore you with your hands around my neck_

_Or I did last time I checked_

  
  
  


_J'ai demandé à la lune_

_Et le soleil ne le sait pas_

Kiyoomi called upon the moon. Probably in a haze of exhaustion and a bit of alcohol. Or maybe too much coffee. Third night in a row without any more than an hour of sleep. Blank page. No words in his notebook. White, empty. The straight lines of the sheet of paper mockingly looking at him.

The moon laughed at him too. He showed her his wounds. And she laughed. Maybe he deserved it. But, she could at least answer, the naughty girl. Her, who always gave Kiyoomi inspiration. His muse. Maybe he was out of luck. The moon laughed again. And when he looked up at her again, it wasn’t the moon he was seeing. Instead, he saw blonde hair and golden eyes. A smile as blinding as the rays of the sun. One he couldn’t look at anymore. The sky didn’t look too bright. 

And Kiyoomi understood.

The sun had become his muse. Not the moon. 

But Kiyoomi didn’t have the sun anymore. 

After all, room 505 was never said to only bring happiness. The song has never been a happy one. No matter the contrast of the music video.

Kiyoomi asked the moon if the sun still wanted him. She told him that she wasn’t used to bothering with issues like this. After all, she couldn’t answer him, anyway. The moon didn’t talk.

  
  


_Not shy of a spark_

_A knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark_

“Can’t ya stop?” Atsumu growled.

Kiyoomi lifted his head from his notebook, clicking his pen in the process. 

“Stop what?”

“This!” Atsumu mentioned him with gritted teeth. “Yer fuckin’ pencil, it’s annoyin’.”

“Oh,” Kiyoomi glanced at the black pencil in his hand, then back at Atsumu, seated on the loveseat in the living room. “Sorry.”

“Ya know what?” the actor ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath. “Actually, can ya just stop with yer notebook?”

“I’m writing, Atsumu.”

“No you’re not!” Atsumu cried. “Ya don’t fuckin’ write anything, Omi. Can’t ya see? We’ve been sitting there for two hours and never once did I see ya write one word.”

Kiyoomi was about to retort when his gaze fell on his paper sheet. Blank. Only small dots of black ink. Probably words Kiyoomi was about to write but never did. 

“See?” Atsumu repeated, more softly this time. When Kiyoomi looked at him again, his eyes were shiny. “It’s not comin’, so stop forgettin’ yourself.”

“But I need to write,” Kiyoomi said stubbornly. “We need to drop a new album soon, it’s been -”

“Omi,” Atsumu cut him off. It made the singer glare at him. Atsumu didn’t falter. “When did you release yer last album?”

“2019.”

“And the one before that?”

“2016. We were supposed to release it in 2015 but we had issues with the production.”

Tears glistened in Atsumu’s eyes. “See? You still have time. Nobody forces you to drop an album every year. It’s alright to take breaks, Omi.”

“Says you,” Kiyoomi growled. “How many movies did you shoot this year?”

“It’s not the same -”

“It is,” Kiyoomi cut him off. His eyes sent daggers to Atsumu. “What happens when you don’t shoot movies, no matter your role in it?” he didn’t let the other any time to answer. “You don’t have a job. If I don’t make songs, I don’t have a job, Atsumu. Just like if you don't shoot movies, you don’t have a job. Simple.”

“You’re right,” Atsumu nodded. “Yer right on that point, we need the job,” a first tear escaped his eyes when he turned fully to look at Kiyoomi. “But is it worth sacrificing us?”

“I don’t sacrifice us.” Kiyoomi denied.

“Ya do,” Atsumu shook his head. Tears were freely falling now. He wiped them off his cheeks and got up. “Ya do and ya don’t even realise it,” when he reached the doorway and when Kiyoomi still hadn’t moved, he turned once again to look at his boyfriend’s back. “When was the last time we went on a date, Kiyoomi?”

Kiyoomi didn’t answer. Wasn’t it that dinner they had… months ago. A wave of guilt crashed against his body. His eyes fell on his notebook again. He needed to get the words out. He knew what words. They just didn’t want to go out. But they were there, in his mind, somewhere.

“I think it’s pretty self explanatory,” Atsumu’s voice said from somewhere behind him. “I won’t make ya chose, don’t worry.” he chuckled, bitterly. Kiyoomi could feel the venom underneath. “But I can’t keep goin’ on like this.”

The singer turned to look at him. Atsumu was back in the doorway of the living room. But, this time, he had his shoes and jacket on - a matching one he had with Kiyoomi. He also had his duffel bag slinged over his left shoulder. Kiyoomi’s eyes widened. Atsumu couldn’t have made a whole bag of clothes in the two minutes that preceded his last question and his last statement. So… that means the bag was already done. Had been, for a while.

How long had Atsumu thought about this? How long had Kiyoomi been blinded by his own fears and demons?

He felt tears running down his cheeks, mirroring and joining Atsumu’s. The other was biting his lips, probably trying to not make any sounds. Kiyoomi made a step forward, wanting to reach to him with his hand. Atsumu took a step backward. Pain clearly visible on his whole face.

“Please,” Kiyoomi whispered. 

Atsumu shook his head, choking out a sob as more tears fell, sliding down his lips and into his mouth. Some left stains on the floor. Kiyoomi wanted to kiss them away.

“Bye, Omi.” he croaked out, voice twisted with unshed tears.

The door closed behind golden hair. 

Silent. Pen and notebook fallen on the floor next to him. Tears staining the floor on which he had crumbled down, fingers gripping black hair. Room 505 was never a happy song to begin with. Kiyoomi was trapped in his own lyrics but he wasn’t the one singing them anymore. He was the song. And it was never a happy song to begin with.

_Frightened by the bite though it's no harsher than the bark_

_Middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start_

  
  


_J'ai demandé à la lune_

_Si tu voulais encore de moi_

When Kiyoomi couldn’t sleep, he called upon the moon. She doesn’t usually answer. She just stared down at him. Blinding him in a way that was different than how the sun blinded him. But the sky wasn’t proudly striking anymore. It was cloudy, all the time. He didn’t see any sunlights. Sometimes he would see some faint rays. On ads on TV or when he was taking the subway. But they were quickly covered by the darkness of the clouds once again. 

Sitting on his balcony, on the ledge, with his back slumped against the wall, Kiyoomi teared his gaze away from the Lady in silver to look down at his notebook. He saw smudges of black ink on his fingers, he’ll need to make sure to wash it later. His paper sheet was more black than white. Words were spiralling everywhere. Lots of hatching and cross outs again. His notebook has never been so stuffed. Not since…

Not since Atsumu.

Kiyommi gulped and stood up, leaving the notebook on the ledge to go and grab his phone he left somewhere in the house. The sheets flying in the light breeze of the summer night.

 _I'm going back to_ ~~_room_ ~~ _505_

_If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive_

_In my imagination you're waiting_ _f ~~or me~~ _ _, lying on your side_

_With your hands between your thighs and a smile_

~~_And you and I_ ~~ _Et toi et moi_

_On était tellement sûrs_

~~_Et on se disait quelquefois_ ~~

_Que c'était juste une aventure_

_Et que ça ne durerait pas_

_we always keep track Of a love, of an absentee_

_That you resurface_

_As yesterday straight ahead_

  
  


_I'm going back to 505_

“You can move the light a bit to the right,” Motoya said, guiding the setting team into the construction of the scenery. “A bit more… Perfect!”

Kiyoomi was looking from the back, tuning his guitar in silence. Singing the lyrics of the song internally. He tightened the last string and looked up when Komori stopped in front of him.

“Are you sure about all of this?” his cousin asked. 

The singer sighed. “That’s the best I can do,” he said when standing up. He slinged the guitar on his shoulder. “Is he coming?” he eventually asked, playing some chords as a warming up.

“He didn’t decline,” Motoya answered. “But he didn’t agree either.”

Ruckus coming from the front of the room made them both look into that direction. In the middle of black shirt and caps, Kiyoomi saw gold. Like the sun in the middle of the night. A golden moon.

Atsumu hadn’t changed. Maybe he was glowing even more than before, now. After all, his last two movies were complete successes, propelling him in the spotlights and probably as one of the best of the moment and of his generation. 

_Revenir en souriant_

_En gardant ce qu'il faut taire_

_Et puis faire comme avant_

Return with a smile. Keep inside what is necessary to mute. And then act like before.

Eventually, Atsumu reached them. He greeted Motoya with a smile and his eyes settled on Kiyoomi.

_I can only tell you… I can only tell you._

_That I needed the fear_

_To be reassured_

_That I knew the pain_

_Before being consoled_

_That I needed crying_

_Nothing to hide anymore_

_That I knew the rancour_

_Before being calmed_

“So,” Atsumu began, clearing his throat. “Yer releasin’ a new album?” he asked. Kiyoomi could see his hands fidgeting in the pockets of his jacket. The same jacket Kiyoomi is wearing, right now.

 _Beau malheur_.

“No, I’m not.” Kiyoomi simply answered. Atsumu looked at him confused. The clouds are slowly moving away. “It’s just a song.”

“My agent told me yer manager asked me to feature in a new music video, since it went well last time.” the actor explained, biting his lips.

“It’s technically not a lie,” Kiyoomi explained. He caught Komori signing to him that it was time. “You can go sit behind the cameras.”

“What does that mean?” Atsumu asked, again.

Kiyoomi stopped. He didn’t look at Atsumu in the eyes, keeping his back to him. “That’s the only thing I’ve been able to write. After you left.” He didn’t see Atsumu’s face as he was taking place on the stool in the middle of the room.

He settled his guitar on his lap, fingers placing themselves naturally on the strings. He had played this song so much the last few months, it was muscle memory now. Kiyoomi vaguely heard his director screaming “action!”, he wasn’t playing. His fingers shook so slightly against the strings. Until, when he lifted his head, he met Atsumu’s gaze.

He’s back to room 505. Maybe this one will be a happy song.

  
  


_But I crumble completely when you cry_

_It seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye_

When Kiyoomi reached those lyrics, he caught Atsumu’s gaze behind the cameras. Kiyoomi wanted to look away, he could already see the shine of tears in the other’s eyes. But he was unable to tear his gaze from Atsumu’s. Because Kiyoomi was still trapped in his own lyrics. It was still the same room.

The same room that transcended the limits of a music video, and linked Kiyoomi and Atsumu. The song that wasn’t a happy one but that Kiyoomi wished he could turn into one. Kiyoomi might still be a prisoner of his lyrics, but this time he’s also the conductor. He’s the artist. He’s the one writing the verse. 

_In my imagination you're waiting, lying on your side_

_With your hands between your thighs and a smile_

Kiyoomi didn’t know what he expected once the song was done and the video was wrapped. It was a one shot. Lots of work for so little time. But Kiyoomi needed it. He needed to rewrite the song. He needed Atsumu to hear it. He needed Atsumu to _understand_. 

When the actor reached him with his eyes red and dry because of the tears he shed, Kiyoomi didn’t know anymore. The night of their breakup had played thousands of times in his mind. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure if it was real or just his brain playing with his head. But, when he would wake up to an empty and cold house, he’d know. It was all real. The only thing that greeted him was silence. Atsumu’s goodbye. Fresh and clear in his mind.

“Ya weren’t able to write anything else?” Atsumu asked, when he stopped in front of Kiyoomi. The staff was busy around them, taking off the scenery, switching the spot lights off. Kiyoomi didn’t hear them. He didn’t hear anything else. Just Atsumu.

He shook his head. “My notebook is a mess,” he explained. “But it just doesn’t make sense.”

“Ya haven’t written anything in a year?”

Kiyoomi shook his head again. If it was anyone else, maybe he would have snapped. No, he hadn’t been able to. How could he, when the one who gave him the words without even talking wasn’t by his side anymore?

“I haven’t,” the singer assured. “It doesn’t make sense when I write something and you’re not there.” he paused. He felt tears burning his eyes when Atsumu’s eyes mirrored his own. “Nothing makes sense, since you left.” he added. “I don’t have the words anymore. I have nothing more to say.”

Atsumu’s lips wobbled when he spoke again. He blinked his tears away and offered Kiyoomi a shaky smile. “Ya know, I’m no singer but I’m pretty sure if Taylor Swift and I were in a competition of who could write the most breakup songs in one night, I’d win by a landslide,” he said. And to Kiyoomi’s lost gaze, he added: “Because I still set two plates out for dinner, even though I eat alone.”

When Kiyoomi’s tears found a way to escape his eyes, Atsumu’s thumbs wiped them away. The actor rested his forehead on his as Kiyoomi gave his eyes free rein to let it all out. The sky became clearer, rays of light peaked out of the grey clouds. The song became hopeful.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! \o/ 
> 
> Comments and kudos are my serotonin boost!
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bokutowantsyou)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/bokutowantsyou)  
> 


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